


Wounds

by xxSparksxx



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 07:49:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15577218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxSparksxx/pseuds/xxSparksxx
Summary: Wounds both external and internal. Or, how Demelza came to have pierced ears.





	Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone's going to get 5.5k out of Demelza getting her ears pierced, it's me *headdesk*
> 
> Beta'd by mmmuse. Set during 4.03.

“My dear, I’m given to understand you have not yet accepted Lord de Dunstanville’s invitation to his Christmas gathering.”

Demelza hid her smile behind her cup of tea. How, she wondered, had Caroline discovered this? Either Prudie or Dwight had given her away. Demelza herself had said nothing of either invitation or party to Caroline. 

“No, I think I shall decline,” she said. Somewhere in the house, Jeremy yelled a war cry and Garrick replied with a volley of barks. Caroline winced, and Demelza’s smile widened. Poor Caroline. Demelza had no doubt she would love her child when it came, but Caroline’s distaste for the louder and messier sides of childrearing was genuine, and so far pregnancy was doing nothing to reconcile her to the prospect of becoming a mother. Caroline was experiencing more sickness than Demelza ever did, and dizzy spells severe enough that already, with half of her pregnancy still ahead of her, she was under strict instructions not to venture out of the house by herself.

Dwight was a faithful squire, accompanying Caroline on all her social calls even though they all knew he would much rather be at Wheal Grace tending to his patients. In return, Caroline was curtailing her outings a little. Demelza was quietly pleased to see them both learning to compromise; it was, she felt, the art of a good marriage. 

Not that she herself had much call to be pronouncing on good marriages. Her heart ached as her thoughts turned to Ross. He would not be home for Christmas. The weather was too poor, the journey too long, and she suspected he was disinclined. The children were sorely disappointed and so, in truth, was Demelza. She had no desire to go to a party and pretend to be cheerful and sociable. She wanted to stay at home, to hold her children close, and to let Prudie try to raise everyone’s spirits.

“It isn’t as if you’d be going alone,” Caroline pointed out. “Dwight and I are going. All you need do is ride over to Killewarren and you can come with us in our carriage.” She looked at Demelza, her expression deceptively bland. People sometimes thought Caroline shallow, without depth, but Caroline saw and understood more than most people gave her credit for. Demelza suspected, now, that Caroline knew all the reasons Demelza could give to justify a refusal – and had ripostes for all of them, too. “The children will be quite safe with Prudie,” Caroline went on, proving right Demelza’s suspicions. “You’ve left them with her before, and it’s only a supper party. You’ll be safely home by midnight.”

“T’isn’t the children that would stop me,” Demelza said cautiously. “But Lord de Dunstanville…I’m just not certain I should accept. I wish –,” She cut herself off. She wished she knew what Ross would say in response to the invitation, but she knew what Ross would say. Ross was never keen on social gatherings, or at least not those that extended beyond his close family and dearest friends. Social gatherings of his own class, he avoided wherever possible, except occasionally to please her. 

But in this particular instance, there was more to contend with. Francis Basset had not been pleased when Ross had refused to stand for Parliament, and though Caroline had connived to make Basset and Lord Falmouth come to terms, still Demelza was aware that Lord de Dunstanville could not be best pleased that Ross had refused his patronage and yet accepted that of Lord Falmouth. Not when Ross’s views on the corruption of voters, among other things, were so much more closely aligned with the former than the latter. Basset had voted for Ross at the election, it was true, but even so, there was bound to still be some ill feeling there, some lingering distaste. Demelza could and would play peacemaker if necessary, but to go into Basset’s house and do so was more than she felt able to accomplish – especially when she was still so conscious of the fact that her family had worked in his mine.

“He wouldn’t have sent you an invitation if he still felt irritated with Ross,” Caroline observed. Demelza felt like making a face, but refrained. Caroline saw the impulse anyway, and laughed. “My dear, he, like most of the men of sense in the county, admires and likes you. Even if he and Ross were at daggers drawn, I dare say he would still extend you an invitation, knowing as he does that Ross is away.”

“I’m not sure I can think highly of anyone who might invite me alone, without Ross,” Demelza said, before she could stop herself. Caroline’s levity ebbed, and Demelza put down her cup. The unspoken name hovered between them. Since that dreadful day at the beginning of autumn, the day of the election, neither of them had mentioned Hugh directly to each other. Demelza had poured her heartbreak out that evening, had cried and sobbed and wailed, and Caroline had listened and hugged her and not tried to stem the grief that had spilled over inconsolably. There was no need, now, to speak of what had happened. Caroline knew all, and thought no less of her. Her silent support had been a comfort, these past two months since Ross had gone. 

Still, the ghost lingered sometimes, in certain conversations. 

“No,” Caroline agreed at last. “No, but in this case I think you need not worry. And after all, Lord de Dunstanville has been here, to visit you both, and they were entirely cordial to each other. Any bad feeling has long since passed, and Ross would be invited if he were here.”

“Well…perhaps,” Demelza allowed. “But even so, I don’t like to say yes.” She looked at Caroline’s pale, smooth hands, and looked at her own calloused ones. “I never feel so confident going into company – that kind of company – without Ross.”

“But you came with me to Tregothnan, without Ross.”

“That was different. T’was to keep you from hearing of Ross’s venture to France!” Demelza laughed at Caroline’s expression, and picked up her tea again. “T’would be easier with you and Dwight with me,” she conceded, “but even so, I’m not sure I should feel comfortable. And I’m sure Ross wouldn’t like it.”

“He surely cannot expect you to be a recluse,” Caroline said, arching an eyebrow. “Or he should not, if he does.”

“Perhaps he does,” murmured Demelza. “Perhaps he should.” Trust, after all, was something that one could lose, and she could not blame him for not trusting her now. How would it look to him, she wondered, if she wrote and said she had been to a party, and supped with this man, and perhaps danced with that man, even with Dwight and Caroline as her escorts? She would know the truth of it, but would he? 

“My dear,” said Caroline, a little helplessly. “Don’t take more meaning from my words than I intended. You’ve scarcely stepped foot off Nampara these last two months, except to go to the mine, and Ross would not wish you to deny yourself an evening of company merely because you feel you must don sackcloth and ashes.” Demelza sighed but said nothing, and Caroline pursed her lips for a moment before continuing. “I know Ross a little by now, you know, Demelza. And I dare say I never see him so happy as when you are happy. Come to Tehidy with us. For one evening, pretend to have as few cares in the world as I do. Ross will not begrudge you that, and I defy him to mistrust you when I shall, I promise, stray not more than an arms’ length from you all evening.”

Demelza finished her tea and cast her mind over her wardrobe, though in doing so she knew she had lost the battle. 

“What sort of an affair will it be?” she asked, still somewhat cautious. “What should I wear – if I go?”

Caroline beamed her approval. “Your lovely green silk, of course,” she said. “And if you like, I’ll lend you some earrings that will go perfectly.”

“Oh!” The idea was appealing. Demelza had often looked at other women, with their pierced ears and pretty earrings, and felt a twinge of envy, though in general she was more than pleased with her meagre selection, all pieces that Ross had chosen and bought for her in recent years as the mine had prospered. She had a string of pearls that she wore in her hair sometimes for grand parties, and some pendants that she wore more often, and one fine necklace that meant more to her than any of the rest. But sometimes, she could admit to herself, she had wondered what it would feel like, to have jewels dangling from her ears, catching the light. “But I don’t have pierced ears,” she reminded Caroline, the momentary flush of pleasure fading into dismay.

“That’s easily solved. Do you have a needle to hand?”

“A needle!” Demelza repeated. “Why, I – yes, I do.” She went to her mending basket, deliberated over the needles in the felt needle-case, and chose the smallest, finest one. She took it back to Caroline, but hesitated before handing it over. “Is that how it’s done, then? Just a needle through…” She fingered her earlobe. She wasn’t afraid of pain, but then she never purposefully inflicted pain on herself. There was a difference between stubbing one’s toe accidentally and deliberately poking a hole in one’s earlobe. 

“That’s how it’s done,” Caroline agreed, either not noticing Demelza’s discomfort or, more likely, blithely ignoring it. “Mine were done at school. Frightful girl who couldn’t string two coherent thoughts together if her life depended on it. Happily, she was rather pretty and destined to inherit a great fortune, so I doubt her lack of brains has greatly impeded her life.” 

“ _Caroline_ ,” Demelza reproved.

“Well, she had steady hands, at any rate,” Caroline said with a casual shrug. “And hers had been done by an older sister, so she knew what to do.” She plucked the needle from Demelza’s hand and inspected it. “Yes, this will do. And a cloth of some kind. There’s a spot of blood, but nothing more.”

“I’m not sure,” said Demelza weakly. “I – I don’t think Ross would like it.”

Caroline lifted her chin and stared Demelza down. “And I dare say he has on occasion done things that you didn’t like,” she said. “It isn’t even as if you’re spending any money, after all. What can he complain of?” Demelza had no answer, and Caroline gave a triumphant smile. “Besides, the holes will close up by themselves, if you’re not careful to wear earrings from time to time. If he objects, you can simply let your ears heal.”

“Heal from what?”

“Dwight!” Feeling unaccountably guilty, Demelza sprang to her feet again and touched her earlobe. Time had flown quickly, if Dwight was already back. He had brought Caroline to Nampara before going on to the mine, with the promise of returning for her when his work was done – for even though they had come in the carriage, and therefore there would be a driver to escort Caroline back to Killewarren, Dwight insisted on accompanying her too. His concern was endearing; it made Demelza remember how careful Ross had been of her, during her first pregnancy. Though she suspected Dwight’s occupation would always give him an over-abundance of caution when it came to Caroline’s health.

“Ah, Dr Enys,” greeted Caroline. There was a softness in her eyes that belied her casual tone. “You’ve torn yourself away from your poor wretches.”

“I have,” Dwight agreed, coming properly into the parlour and taking the chair Demelza gestured him towards. “Even my most dependably ill patients needed little of my attention today.” Demelza poured him a cup of tea as he glanced over his wife, the familiar and habitual glance of concern that he had given her ever since she became pregnant. “Well, what will your ears be healing from?” he asked, with a brief smile for Demelza as he took his cup. 

“Caroline wants to pierce them,” she said. Dwight’s eyebrows rose, and Demelza felt a flush creep across her face. “For earrings.”

“Yes, I’ve a perfectly splendid pair that suit none of my new gowns but will match Demelza’s dress perfectly,” said Caroline breezily. “For the Christmas party at Tehidy. If I pierce them today, Demelza will be able to wear the earrings then.”

“Pierce – you?” Dwight looked rather taken aback at the idea. “You’re proposing – and you’re _agreeing_ to this, Demelza?”

“Of course she is.” 

Dwight wisely didn’t take Caroline’s word for it; he looked at Demelza and waited for her answer.

“I – think so,” Demelza hesitated. “Only I – Caroline, I’ve nothing to wear _now_ , surely the – the piercings would just heal like any wound?”

“Easily solved,” declared Caroline again, unhooking the earrings from her own ears. They were simple things, little dangling gold drops that clinked together when she put them on the table. “There. You may borrow those for now.” Demelza looked at the tempting jewellery, and then glanced almost helplessly at Dwight. When Caroline had an idea in her head, it was hard to dissuade her – and Demelza was scarcely opposed, excepting only that she didn’t know what Ross would have to say about it. But Dwight could be no help there. Nobody could ever _quite_ know what Ross would say about anything.

“Well,” she said, and stopped. “Well, I – I suppose…they’re that pretty, Caroline. But surely you’ll miss them?”

“It’s only a few weeks to the party, and you can give them back to me then,” said Caroline with a careless shrug. “Or keep them until you purchase some of your own. Come, we can be done in an instant.”

“Ah, perhaps not,” Dwight said, plucking the needle from Caroline’s hand before she could do more than raise her arm. “If you’re both insistent on doing this, the least you can do is allow _me_ to perform the procedure.” He raised his eyebrows and looked from Caroline to Demelza and back again. “Unless either of you have gained some medical experience without my knowledge?”

“Medical experience! My dear Dwight, there’s nothing to it,” exclaimed Caroline. 

“Then there’s no harm in your giving the responsibility over to me.”

He would not be gainsaid, and not even Caroline could not overcome his resolve when it came to medical matters. So it was Dwight who took up the needle, Dwight who found a wadded bandage in his medical bag to hold behind the earlobe, and Dwight who counted to three but pushed the needle through Demelza’s flesh before he reached the final number.

“ _Ohhhh_ ,” Demelza gasped. 

“It will only hurt for a moment,” said Caroline, somewhat anxiously, leaning forwards and reaching out a hand to cover Demelza’s on the table. But the sharp, pinching pain was already fading into a duller sensation. Dwight was careful when he withdrew the needle, and caused no additional hurt. Strangely – for Demelza was hardly squeamish – the sight of her blood on the needle made her feel a little queasy. “You’ll have to do the other, now,” Caroline added.

“Mm,” Demelza hummed, lips pressed too tightly together to manage more. Dwight hesitated, but she jerked her head in a nod. He raised his eyebrows briefly, then put the bandage behind her other ear.

“Almost as bad as sailors tattooing themselves,” he muttered. “Mauling yourselves for appearance’s sake. Ready? One – two –,” Again he pushed the needle through her earlobe before reaching three. This time, a little more prepared for it, Demelza held back a gasp. “There,” Dwight said, setting the needle aside and pressing the earlobe gently with the bandage. “Now the earrings, or the holes will heal themselves over.”

“I’ll do that,” Caroline offered. “There’s a knack to it.” She rose and rounded the table, reaching for the earrings as she went. Dwight gave way to his wife, and Caroline’s fingers were cool on Demelza’s ears as she carefully put the earrings through the tender holes. “There,” she murmured. “You look lovely, Demelza. Truly.”

Demelza touched her earlobes, and the gold drops that were still warm from Caroline’s skin. The pain of the piercing had already ebbed away, but the shock of it lingered.

“I don’t know what Ross will think,” she said, stupidly. It was useless to speculate; the thing was done, now. And neither Caroline nor her own vanity would give her leave to let the holes close up. “Do it – do I look a fool?”

“Not in the least,” Dwight assured her. He cleaned the needle on the same bit of bandage, and put both down on the table. “Though neither of you – nor any woman – needs to resort to such extremes of self-mutilation in order to look lovely.” The unexpected compliment made Demelza smile, and he touched her shoulder for a moment, a silent reassurance. “Ross won’t mind,” he said. He believed it, Demelza could see, despite his own objections to the practice. After all, she reasoned to herself, she had never heard Ross speaking _against_ the idea of women wearing earrings. If he disliked a thing, he made that dislike plain. It was both a virtue and a flaw in him. She wondered how he was managing in Westminster. His letters told her so little.   
“And now I think Caroline and I had better leave you in peace,” Dwight added. “You look tired, Caroline.” That she didn’t object was answer enough, and as Demelza rose to see them out, Caroline took Dwight’s offered arm and leaned on him a little more than usual. 

“Wash your ears daily,” she instructed Demelza, “and make sure to wear the earrings every day, too. Come to see me, next time, my dear. With the children – I’m sure Horace ought to be exposed to young creatures before my own brat arrives.”

“And Clowance does so love him,” Demelza smiled. The earrings brushed against her neck in a disconcerting manner. It would take some getting used to. “I’ll bring them next week. Take good care of her, Dwight.” She walked them to the door and watched as Dwight helped Caroline into the carriage. It warmed her, to see the care between them. At least they were happy; she had feared, early in the marriage, that they might not be. Demelza had not always been certain that either of them were inclined towards compromise, but they seemed to be managing to do so now. 

Her smile faded. She touched the earrings again. If Ross disliked them, she resolved, she would let the holes heal up. Until then she would accept Caroline’s loan of the jewellery, and maintain the piercings.

* * *

_“Perhaps we no longer know each other.”_

Ross’s hands cupped Demelza’s face, gentle and sure despite the doubt she could see lurking behind his eyes. His palms were softer than they had been before he went away, the calluses smoothed away by the months of mental, rather than physical, exertion. They were not quite a stranger’s hands, just as he was not quite a stranger to her, but there was strangeness in the touch nonetheless. Demelza wanted it to be gone. She wanted his hands on her skin just as they always had been; she wanted him to hold her, to kiss her, to _trust_ her. But the long months had worn away the casual ease of their interactions. She’d almost jumped when he’d taken her hand that afternoon, on his return. They had not kissed yet. Not properly. Though he stood near to her, his breath warm on her face, he might have been miles away for all the closeness she felt. 

And she didn’t know how to bridge the distance between them. She didn’t know what she could say, what she could do. She couldn’t even try to reconnect with him physically. When Ross let his hands fall away from her face to drop onto her shoulders, when he ducked his head a little to kiss her, Demelza welcomed it but then had to stop him, pushing gently at his chest to make him cease.

“I’ve my courses,” she said, when he frowned questioningly at her. “It’s heavy this month, I don’t want…”

His mouth tightened, the only sign that he was at all irritated. “Of course,” he agreed, as blandly as if they were discussing what to have for supper the next day. “And I’m tired.” She had misunderstood him, Demelza realised with dismay, and only served to make the unfamiliarity worse. But already Ross was taking a step away from her, removing the warmth of his body from hers as he turned to finish undressing. “Did I tell you I met that odious man Whitworth on the coach from St Austell?” he said over his shoulder. “Wanting me to use my influence, such as it might be, to procure him yet another living.”

“Oh?” She fidgeted with the end of her plait, and then went to turn down the blankets. “Don’t he have two already? And poor Odgers trying to feed all those children.”

“Exactly the point I made, though he didn’t appreciate it.” 

“Do you have that sort of influence?” she asked, straightening to look across the bed at him. He shrugged but made no comment, and Demelza took a breath and tried again. “I read about your speech. It was in the newspaper. About – about poor folk often being no better than slaves.”

Ross glanced at her, clearly surprised. “I didn’t realise it had been published. It was hardly a great oration – and I don’t think anyone thought kindly of me for it. Certainly not Wilberforce.” He gave her that look again, the look he’d given her when he’d ridden up to the farmyard that afternoon and found her while she was feeding the goats. Part anxious, part amazed; as if he was pleased to see her but somehow surprised at the same time. As if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her. She didn’t like the expression, but didn’t know how to change it. “What did you think of it?” he asked.

“I thought it sounded like you,” she answered slowly, trying to find the right words to explain how she’d felt and what she’d thought when she’d read about Captain Poldark, MP, and his maiden speech in the House. “It was just what I know you think, and I could almost hear you saying it.” She smiled at him suddenly, recapturing the precise emotion she had experienced when she’d seen his name and his speech printed out in the newspaper for all to read. “I was that proud, Ross,” she said with warmth. “So proud.” The strangeness of his expression faded away and he looked, now, as if he wanted to smile. She thought perhaps she might be able to tease him a little. “I cut it from the newspaper and pasted it in a book,” she told him. “I’m going to keep all the speeches they print and put them in a book and one day Jeremy and Clowance will read it and know all about what their Papa did when they were little.”

“Please tell me you’re not serious.” But he was smiling properly now, mirth making his mouth soften and his eyes warm, so Demelza knew he didn’t really mind. “If I find it, I’ll burn it,” he threatened. 

“Well, you shan’t find it,” she laughed. “I’ve got it safely hid where you’ll never think to look.” She climbed into bed and settled herself against the headboard as Ross discarded his breeches and ran a comb through his hair. It was odd, watching him moving about the room that for six months had been hers alone. He was familiar with it, of course – she hadn’t moved the furniture, nor changed her habits as to where she put the combs and brushes on the dressing table – but though he belonged here, though he knew where everything was and moved around the room in the same way he always had, still it was odd to see. She had spent so long trying to get used to his absence. She didn’t like the idea that, now he was back, she would have to get used to his presence again.

“Did I write about Clowance losing her first tooth?” she asked, just as he was turning back towards the bed. His brows drew together in a frown of confusion. “I was just thinking,” she said, though she knew that was no explanation at all. 

“Thinking about what?” He joined her in the bed, sitting against the headboard as she was. There was a small but definable gap between them. The bed allowed for it, barely. Demelza would hardly need to move in order to close it, to touch him, but she felt too disheartened to do so.

“Just…about the things we’ve missed,” she shrugged. “I tried to write about most of the important things, but I can’t remember if I wrote about her tooth.” It was such a silly thing to be focusing on now, especially given what had been said by each of them this evening, but it seemed to be representative, somehow, of the whole six months they had spent apart. Each of them alone with their own thoughts, their own doubts, and lacking in the important trivialities that made up a relationship. A kiss goodnight, and a kiss good morning. An arm around shoulders or waist when walking together. Frivolous laughter over life’s absurdities, loving care of their children. 

“Tell me now,” Ross said. And, as if he had read her mind, he reached his arm up and around her, his hand gently putting pressure on her until she was leaning against him. Demelza heaved a great sigh and rested her head in his shoulder. This was better; this was what she wanted.

“She didn’t realise she’d lost it until dinner,” she began. “I think it went when she was playing with Garrick, but it was only when she came to eat that she noticed it, and she set off in a storm of tears, certain sure that all her teeth would fall out like old Granny Carkeek.”

Ross laughed softly. “I can imagine. How did you calm her down?”

“Oh, I didn’t. ‘Twas all Jeremy. He told her they grow back and cuddled her until she stopped crying.” Demelza smiled at the memory. “And then I wept into my pillow that night,” she had to add, “for she’s growing up too fast. Like Jeremy.” She sighed again, and felt Ross rub her shoulder. He didn’t say anything to comfort her, and she was glad of that, because it wasn’t a pain she couldn’t bear. Children grew up; it was the natural order of things. And it was natural, she felt, for mothers to wish it wasn’t so.

“He’s a kind boy, isn’t he?” Ross mused. “Kinder than I ever was at his age. Your influence, no doubt.” Demelza hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “Have you done much of that?” he asked. She lifted her head from his shoulder to look enquiringly at him, but Ross kept his eyes averted. “Crying into your pillow,” he clarified. Her instincts rose, like the prickling of gooseflesh, warning her of danger. The name wasn’t spoken aloud, but she heard it clearly nonetheless, and it made her want to withdraw from him again. It made her want to pull away and tuck herself back into her own skin before his mistrust could wound her once more. 

“No,” she said, a little too sharply. “Not much.”

“You _are_ thinner, though.” He glanced at her and then, almost skittishly, away. “And you look tired. Worn out. As if...”

“As if what?”

The tension spun out for a few moments longer, and then Ross huffed a laugh, shook his head wryly and smiled. “As if you’ve been forgetting to eat,” he accused her, “just as you used to before we were married.” 

She softened, as no doubt he had intended. “D’you think Prudie would let me starve? Nay, Ross, I’m the same as I was. Maybe a little tired,” she conceded, when he refused to give way. “But I’ve been fretted about the mine, and waiting for your advice, so perhaps I’ve not been sleeping so well.”

“Hm.” Ross reached to her and gently stroked his thumb on the sensitive skin beneath her eye, where perhaps he saw traces of fatigue. Then his gaze sharpened, and his fingers moved to her ear. “What’s this? This is a change!”

“Oh!” He’d discovered the piercings that Caroline had persuaded her into, months ago before Christmas. Demelza flushed and fingered her other earlobe. “Are they that obvious?” she asked. “I thought they were healing up, it’s been so long…”

“So long?” Ross raised an eyebrow. “It can’t have been _that_ long, unless you did it the moment my back was turned.” It was a turn of phrase, and she knew that was all it was, but it cut a little too deeply.

“No, no,” she hastened to explain, “‘tis only that I’ve not worn the earrings since Christmas, since Caroline –,”

“I might have known –,”

“Nay, Ross, I let her persuade me,” Demelza interrupted, refusing to allow blame to be placed solely on Caroline’s shoulders. “I wrote that Lord de Dunstanville invited me to his party?” Ross nodded, mouth twisting into a faint scowl. “I wasn’t going to go, but Caroline said you wouldn’t mind, and she loaned me the earrings for it, and Dwight –,”

“Dwight!” he exclaimed. “What does Dwight have to do with you having pierced ears?” Demelza gave him a look, lips pursed, and he sighed and gestured for her to continue.

“Dwight pierced them, and I wore the earrings, and then I decided to let the holes heal,” she said. “It was pleasant, but I’ve no need of it, and none of my own anyway. Dwight promised it’d heal up.” She didn’t say that she had worried about Ross’s reaction; she didn’t ask what he thought now that he knew. She rubbed at her earlobe and wished she’d never agreed in the first place. It had been lovely, wearing the earrings. The gold drops had bobbed against her neck when she turned her head, and she’d felt terribly elegant, in her silk gown and the pearls in her hair and Caroline’s gold earrings. But it was an elegance she had lived without for years, and could easily forgo. She was surprised the piercings were still visible enough for Ross to see – but then, Ross knew every inch of her skin, probably better than she knew it herself. And he had obviously been looking for changes in her. 

Ross was silent, and it began to unnerve her, the way it always did when she felt she was waiting his judgement. She let her hand fall away from her ear and wished, not for the first time, that she could wind time back as easily as she wound yarn into a ball. She wanted so much to have the easy companionship with him that seemed so far behind them, now. Perhaps it would never come back. All they could do was keep going forwards, and keep trying.

“They’ll heal soon,” she said, trying to keep her anxiety out of her voice. “So there’s no harm done.”

“No,” he murmured, somewhat distantly. “No.”

“No?” Despite herself, Demelza couldn’t help feeling a little disappointment. If the holes were still visible, there was a chance they were still usable, and with Ross home, even with the mine in trouble, she was sure he wouldn’t stint her a few shillings to buy an inexpensive pair of earrings to wear on occasion. It hadn’t been a purchase she had felt happy making without his input, but if he didn’t object now…

“No, there’s no harm done,” Ross said, with an odd smile that she didn’t quite understand. “Though I’ve no real objection. It’s only that…well, it was foolish of me, but I didn’t really think of you changing, while I was away.” It _was_ foolish, but there was nothing to be gained by agreeing with him, so she remained silent. “Keep them, if you like. I don’t mind.” He held out his arm again, for her to tuck back against his side, and after a moment she settled back down. “So Clowance has lost a tooth, and you’ve gained pierced ears. Has anything terribly remarkable happened to Jeremy, apart from growing six inches?”

“Three at most,” she laughed.

“And Prudie’s stouter –,”

“Nay, Ross!”

“Next I’ll find that Garrick has decided to start behaving himself.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, just above her hairline, and Demelza felt herself beginning to grow properly warm, at last. Warm and comfortable, the jagged edges of their separation gone for now, smoothed away or hidden, but either way banished from the present. It was enough, for now. It was enough for tonight.


End file.
